It goes without saying that you can’t see everything at Coachella, even if you can afford to go twice a year. Of course, why would you want to bother, other than to set a record with no victory ribbon?

The person who wishes he could have cloned himself Friday night – in order to see OutKast’s second (and this time successful) attempt at greatness as well as punk holdover Anti-Flag and Chino Moreno’s latest Deftones spinoff, all at once – well, he’s probably fictitious. I also defy anyone to observe a four-hour afternoon stretch in the Sahara tent without resorting to heavy medication.

Also, let’s say you saw the Replacements last week, thought “that was enough” and thus opted to take in more of the mellow electro gold of Bonobo in Mojave or savor the full Kubrickian atmosphere of another mood-setting act, Woodkid, at next-door Gobi. You would have checked more names off the list, yes. But you also would have missed a completely different and superior ’Mats set, propelled in part by a Weekend 2 exclusive: the addition of Green Day frontman Billie Joe Armstrong, who joined what clearly must have been one of his favorite groups growing up. Not just for a cameo, by the way, but nearly the entirety of the band’s second hour-long desert set.

“Dreams really do come true,” a bearded and shaggy-haired Billie Joe (above, right) noted after being introduced by Paul Westerberg. “We’ll see about that,” his forebear retorted, then slumped onto a couch in front of Josh Freese’s drum kit, where he remained until the final numbers.

No, he wasn’t drunk, or at least he wasn’t wasted. A chronic back-pain sufferer, the 54-year-old apparently threw it out again earlier in the week; he also walked on stage slowly, relying on a cane. Yet, though he summoned extra strength at the end, rising to the mic for several signature songs – “Left of the Dial” and “Alex Chilton,” finishing face-to-face with Armstrong, then an encore of “Can’t Hardly Wait” and “IOU” – he kept right on rocking the sofa until then, having a grinningly good time in a variety of cool, camera-ready poses. (Bassist Tommy Stinson, who brought up this serendipitous idea of BJ joining the band for a night, was beaming throughout the set as well.)

Haters who weren’t here were quick to trash-tweet something they didn’t see, mistaking Westerberg’s demeanor for laziness and accusing him and Stinson of selling the band’s ramshackle but highly regarded reputation further down the big-paycheck path. Nonsense. Any gripes of lacking authenticity were addressed immediately: “We’re the world’s greatest Replacements cover band,” its leader quipped, before kicking off with a slightly slower but sublime take on “I Will Dare.”

That choice, not played last weekend, plus Westerberg’s opening declaration that “we’re gonna have fun tonight,” signaled that something special was in store. But adding Armstrong – not as mere guest but honorary member, with a plaid suit to match the band’s uniform look – elevated the performance to a magical level. Far more than last week’s loose but satisfying set, this one recaptured the very essence of the ’Mats, winging it brilliantly and finding inspiration in the most spontaneous moments.

Billie Joe smartly stuck to a sideman role after initially fronting jaunty takes on “I’m in Trouble” and “Kiss Me on the Bus.” From there, the group (expertly powered by Freese) let him play out punk-kid fantasies on cuts from all corners of Westerberg’s songbook, early shredders like “Color Me Impressed” and “Tommy Gets His Tonsils Out” to later kinda-hits like “I’ll Be You” and “Achin’ to Be.” That last title was the only one BJ didn’t seem to know as assuredly as he thought; the rest were a blast, even when the chord changes got ragged. It was like no Replacements set anyone will ever see again, if any of us ever even get the chance.

OutKast Returns Restructured

There will be plenty more opportunities, however, to see OutKast’s wildly anticipated reunion show: The Atlanta duo that put Southern hip-hop on the international stage has signed on for at least 40 more festival appearances worldwide, including a rumored return to California later this year. Lest word of mouth sink their tour before it even takes off, it was crucial that they recover solidly after a rocky first weekend that saw a meandering, over-conceptualized version of their production earn middling reviews at best.

Thankfully, they did extensive postgame re-strategizing, eliminating extraneous elements (adios, Future), paring down solo spotlights for Big Boi and Andre 3000, and spreading last week’s hurried end-run of hits across the set, ensuring that the crowd stayed engaged – until it thinned to just hard-core fans once “Hey Ya!” was served up midway.

The difference was night and day, dress rehearsal to show time. Rather than remaining inside their scrim box for several songs, circling around props of inexplicable significance, Dre and Big exploded out of it right away for “B.O.B. (Bombs Over Baghdad),” a seizing start made more incendiary as it segues into “Gasoline Dreams.” Immediately it was evident just how much they had rethought and repackaged: the visual scheme grew more vividly colorful, the props stowed away, the flow of material punched up for maximum impact (“The Way You Move” got moved up, too).

It’s always been foolish to try to discern which half of OutKast asserts what sort of input into the overall aesthetic; seemingly more cerebral Andre can be just as viscerally alive as Big Boi, though I wouldn’t necessarily say vice versa. Regardless, it’s possible to read last week’s failed attempt at a more deeply layered performance as perhaps an Andre-led idea that has now been ironed out by Big Boi’s more approachable style, honed the past few years at major hip-hop and hybrid events. Somehow, their combination of forces took an artier “Love Below”-like experience and turned it into this weekend’s more commanding “Speakerboxxx,” a killer career overview that upholds OutKast’s importance and should slay everywhere it turns up.

That remarkable rebound and the Replacements’ treat capped what on the whole was a leaps-and-bounds better Day 1 than the first weekend. Every artist seemed more relaxed this time, knowing fully what to expect (including crowd size) and buffeted by beautiful weather that only threatened rain in the distance. So, naturally, everyone I caught again was even more on their game: Ellie Goulding impressing on the main stage to a massive audience, Neko Case magnetizing for a tiny one, Broken Bells supremely lush at sunset, Aloe Blacc crushing in Mojave, MS MR covering LCD Soundsystem and Arctic Monkeys, Dum Dum Girls in finer form, Haim so much fiercer and more talented than their debut album lets on.

That trio’s fellow L.A. outfit Grouplove continues to be stronger live than on record, and the hype over last weekend’s main-stage performance was warranted. Their set this time roared with alt-rock flavors (lots of nods to Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana and Pixies without resorting to mimicry) and once more included their clever cover of Beyoncé’s “Drunk in Love,” with a lace-encased Hannah Hooper adding slinkiness to her repertoire of otherwise aggressively bouncy moves. The band ran into Mrs. Carter backstage last weekend, by the way, and told her about doing her song. “She gave Hannah the biggest kiss I’ve ever seen,” said purple-haired frontman Christian Zucconi.

Finally saw Jagwar Ma as well, and came away intrigued, though not as blown away as so many of their fans; I mostly heard a mash-up of Massive Attack and Stone Roses and kept waiting for a climax. Soundcheck contributor George A. Paul was in Gobi for that one, too, and reports that the Sydney trio suffered a bit from a poor sound mix, though that didn’t stop fans from dancing up a storm to the strains of “Man I Need” (bearing shades of the ’90s Manchester baggy scene), “Exercise” and “Come and Save Me” (featuring a bit of Madonna’s “Ray of Light”).

Other Day 1 Standouts

George also caught much of the Afghan Whigs, who once again had Van Hunt on hand for backing vocals and who overall packed a mighty punch into a Mojave set focused on their just-released album, Do to the Beast. Their music felt like walking down a dark alley in the seedy part of town, he tells me, and Greg Dulli’s sandpaper vocals were powerful as ever.

Also from George: Over in the Mojave tent, British sensation Tom Odell drew a sizeable crowd for his dramatic and melodic pop-inflected rock at noon. The Brit Award-winning singer/pianist and his backing trio proved highly impressive during songs (like a haunting “Can’t Pretend” and the Coldplay-esque “I Know”) from his solid U.K. chart topping debut, Long Way Down.

Odell often recalled Elton John with some spirited playing, and other times reminded of underrated fellow countryman Ed Harcourt. A female fan yelled “you’re a babe” to the young blond musician. More than a pretty face, his chops were clearly evident amid “Another Love” (a big hit at home) and a soaring “Till I Lost.”

And another Soundcheck regular, Robert Kinsler, had this to say about the earliest part of the festival’s first segment:

Weekend 2 at Coachella didn’t kick off quietly – at least not in the Gobi tent, where Ramones tribute the Gabba Gabba Heys tore through 40 minutes of old-school punk rock in front of a small but enthusiastic group of early arrivals. Highlights included the quartet’s faithful versions of “Blitzkrieg Bop,” “I Wanna Be Sedated” and “Beat on the Brat.”

Following on the same stage was sonically rish duo Wye Oak, whose appearance found singer/multi-instrumentalist Jenn Wasner and drummer-keyboardist Andy Stack creating enough textures and dynamics to rival just about any indie rock outfit today. The pair featured several cuts from forthcoming album Shriek, including the title track, a dreamy synth-pop gem highlighting Wasner’s distinctive soprano.

And those coming to Coachella for the party didn’t have to wait until nightfall. Performing a 40-minute set inside the Mojave tent, ZZ Ward brought her infectious blend of R&B, pop, blues and rock in a performance that got the place moving like it was Saturday night. People cheered, moved and clapped to the mix of the Pennsylvania artist’s high-energy style. Whether singing, playing bluesy harmonica or strumming her guitar, Ward’s material was definitely what the crowd ordered. Early offerings (“Put the Gun Down,” “Til the Casket Drops”) and later favorites (especially closing tune “Blue Eyes Blind”) were delivered forcefully, not only by the star but her strong three-man band.

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